• Vagalume
  • A-Z
  • Estilos
  • Top 100
  • Playlists
  • Rádio
  • Hot Spots
  • Notícias
  • Play

    ["celebration" skit continued]
    It's a celebration y'all, let's do it!

    Yeah y'all
    Bounce, yeah, bounce
    YEAH! Aight? Aiyyo..

    Cats like, "Hav', what the deal Dunn?"
    Nigga back on his grind, tryin to kill son
    A little shorty on some shit, oh she still frontin?
    But jumped back on the dick when she saw me thumpin
    Straight short nigga oxin niggaz givin 'em doctor stitches
    First chance I get, you know I'm shittin
    on them fake-ass thugs, stuntin in the club
    Don't get scuffed in front of these broads
    Homey so pussy, what they do to they broad
    Beat them bitches up if they dance to the Mobb
    Type of shit is that?
    That won't stop her from lettin us blow her back, bounce to that
    Homey we got this locked
    Like champagne in a wino hand we gon' pop and
    Hate on you lame-ass niggaz, we need not
    Cause first niggaz hate on us, they get shot

    [Chorus: repeat 2X]
    Just party, don't get yourself shot (uh-huh)
    Leave all the drama back home at the block
    At the bar double shots goin down, straight chillin
    While the DJ, playin what I'm feelin (pimpin them hoes)

    Yeah, aiyyo
    I'm -- permanently bugged, genuinely thugged
    I'm hot-blooded, don't have me with the snub
    All at you with the bullets that spray pellets, you fucked
    And I'm back up on shorty with the hourglass cut
    We got mountains and we gon' have a smokefest son
    C'mon, feel like Vegas, we bringin home used paper
    Ain't it amazin I'll stretch how we keep bangin
    We got thousands to spend on them drinks gangsta
    Queensbridge, Mobb Deep like terrorists
    We come through, blow shit up, America's
    nightmares right here live in the flesh
    Our blood and bone be sittin in Ferraris and better
    We out in L.A. we drive our own cars, they not renters
    And take flights back home to hop up in some next shit
    While you tryin to get your hand on some cash
    We never gotta touch money again, we got plas-tic


    Feel that nigga, yeah
    Okay yo, aiyyo
    Aiyyo we ain't gotta lay, we can bang it out neighbor
    Shit, 'til them fuckin flamers empty out player
    Cause boy I thought you knew, don't confuse me with the music
    I'm on loadin nines up, ridin up, shootin it
    I'm hotter than the corner on the ave out in Newark
    I'm grimy, you find me where the loot is with Lugers
    The bodies, the hotties, the hustlers and the shooters
    With dudes that'll cut ya, that's what eatin your food is
    Fools know the rules pull out your tools better buck it
    Cause niggaz be flaggin and braggin when they cut up your nugget
    Knee deep in the grind like "fuck it"
    We gotta keep it real son that's only how the people gon' love it
    And learn to respect the Infamous to the death kid
    We on another level, yeah we really on some next shit
    Got the techs spittin and makin more connections
    Makin more cash and blastin more weapons


    Encontrou algum erro na letra? Por favor, envie uma correção »

    user 300 caracteres restantes. Enviar

    Todas as letras de Mobb Deep

    Mais notícias »
    Hot Spot
    Top Músicas do Vagalume
    Top 100 »

    As informações deste site são postadas integralmente pelos usuários. É importante dizer que é possível que os dados estejam desatualizados ou incorretos, sendo assim, o Vagalume exime-se de qualquer responsabilidade sobre as informações publicadas.Caso haja interesse em remover ou alterar alguma informação, entre em contato conosco.

    É permitida somente a visualização no site das letras de músicas encontradas aqui, vedada sua reprodução através de quaisquer outros meios (Lei 9610/98).Todas as letras de músicas são propriedade dos seus respectivos autores e divulgadas somente para fins educacionais.All lyrics are property and copyright of their owners. All lyrics are provided for educational purposes only.